Muddy Blue Eyes
by Vixray
Summary: "Your eyes are blue," were the first words he said to Will. (The Hunger Games with Nico di Angelo and Will Solace - and what came after.)
1. PART I

**For the OTP Games Contest over on Caesar's Palace.**

 **All recognizable characters and events are disclaimed.**

 **Notes/Warnings: Some elements of the Games are off, but just cringe and ignore them. And yes, I know, my writing tone changes like every section. It's annoying. I still wanted Nico to retain some characteristics as the son of Hades (as crazy as that sounds), so prepare for some unrealistic character development. Will is sometimes a sissy.**

* * *

 _Now is your chance._

Sweat beaded across his upper lip. His shoulder strained, creaking with tension. The feathers of the arrow tickled his right ear. Its sharp, jagged point gleamed dully, aimed at his target, ready to take flight.

 _This is your only chance._

His fingers gripped tighter around the bow. His jaw clenched, his teeth grinding. He pulled his arm back a millimeter, stretching the bowstring even tighter. Inhale. Exhale. Shoot.

The arrow stayed where it was. So did his target.

"Goddammit, Will," he muttered to himself. " _Shoot_."

He couldn't.

 _Kill or be killed. Those are the rules._

But he couldn't. He just couldn't.

Inhale. Exhale. Shoot. So many times. Drilled into his mind. The past four days, before the bull's eyes at the Training Center. Inhale, exhale, shoot as your breath comes out. Let the arrow fly.

He hated it. He hated the sleekness of the bow, the twang of the string after each shot, sounding like a death threat, or perhaps a death wish. He hated the startling accuracy of his shots, although each time his arrow would hit a little closer to the left edge of the red circle than the center. He hated how Chiron would tell him, "You're a natural, Solace. You might just have a chance."

His hands were made to heal, not to paint with blood. On the other side of the training room he could identify every plant with healing properties, and everything that he didn't know would be either poisonous or harmless.

"You'll _really_ have a chance if the arena's some sort of forest," Chiron had said.

It was, in a way. There were plenty of vantage points and more than plenty of little niches and crannies in which Will could hide. He checked his shaking hands frequently to make sure they weren't stained with anyone's blood but his own, from skidding them on gravel or cutting them on rock, and reminded them even more frequently that they would have to fight in the end. But when it came down to it, in the end, he was already a killer. And when it came down to it, it should be easier now. But, but -

 _Now you have to._

No, no, he didn't. At least, not _him_. Not the boy in black. Anyone else but him.

 _It's just the two of you. The Careers are gone. There are no more hunters. You are the hunter._

No. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. The bow twitched madly in his hands. His target was peacefully oblivious, or maybe he was waiting peacefully. Accepting death whenever Will decided to let go of his arrow. No. Inhale. Inhale. But he couldn't.

 _It's kill or be killed. You know that._

Well, he would rather be killed, then.

* * *

"Your eyes are blue," were the first words he had said to Will.

The tribute parade was about to start, and Will was stroking the noses of the skittish horses in an attempt to calm them when he heard the voice at his elbow.

"Excuse me?" he said, turning reluctantly away from the horses to face the speaker.

The boy in black scowled. "Nothing. You've never seen anyone die, have you."

It was a statement, not a question. Will shrugged uncomfortably. He knew this boy. He had noticed him immediately when Chiron had forced him and Kayla to watch the other districts' reapings. The boy in black was from Three. He had volunteered.

"I've seen the Games each year," he offered.

"Yes, we all have," answered the boy. "But you've never seen anyone you know die."

Will shook his head. His family was well. He had never known his father, but he and his mother and two brothers had always hung on - barely, but just so. Will would be the first to go.

"How can you tell?" he asked.

"Your eyes are blue," the boy in black stated, as if it was obvious.

Will made a face. The horse closest to him snorted. He went back to rubbing its nose.

The boy elaborated, "They're clear, they're innocent. None of us have eyes like yours. The things we've seen have tainted our vision."

"What are you saying?" Will was bewildered.

"I want to make an alliance," the boy in black blurted, "with you."

"All right…" Will said slowly. "But why?"

"Because it won't be hard to see you go."

Will swallowed dryly. "That's morbid."

"People unlike you tend to be that way. Get used to it."

The boy in black extended a hand, and Will shook it hesitatingly.

"I'm Nico di Angelo," he said, and added when Will opened his mouth, "You're Solace. I know already." His eyes averted and roamed over to the front of the chariot line. "The parade's about to start."

And, like a shadow, he was gone. Will stood for a moment, feeling dazed, then gave the white horses one last pat and stepped onto the chariot beside Kayla. He studied her for a moment. Her face was stony. Her eyes were muddy brown.

He tried to shake the strange feeling away and focus ahead, but as the chariots began to move, all he could think about was the boy's eyes and that they had been as black as the night stretching over the endless forest.

* * *

"So, you think you're going to win by identifying plants?"

Will scowled. The boy called Nico had been quietly hovering beside him for nearly twenty minutes, and even though the wordless tension was awkward, Will wished that he had just stayed silent.

"No," he replied brusquely, trying his best to focus on his work.

"Well, I haven't seen you fight yet."

"I don't need to fight."

"Then how are you going to win?"

"I'm not!" Will jerked around to face the boy's obsidian eyes.

Nico shrugged. Will ducked his head down and went back to matching plants with their properties. Nico didn't move. Will could hear his shallow breaths above the tapping of his fingers.

"Why did you choose me as your ally?" he asked, nearly in a whisper.

"You're the only one I want to see live," Nico replied at once. Then he whirled away to the opposite side of the room and began inspecting the swords on the wall.

* * *

The next day Will was standing before the bull's eyes, trying to imitate the fluidness of Kayla's body as she nocked, stretched, and released.

 _Why don't you try a bow, Solace?_ Chiron had suggested the night before. _I'm sure Kayla can show you the ropes._ At this, Kayla had grimaced and chewed at a strand of her stringy straw hair. _You can't be a healer boy in the Games._

Will tried to blink away the image of serious brown eyes and bushy eyebrows. _Why can't you leave me alone?_ he shouted at Chiron in his mind as he curled his fingers tentatively around the shaft of an arrow, _Why can't you just do your job and tell me the Careers will kill me? You know I'm going to die._

He already knew what Chiron would say in response:

 _That shouldn't stop you from trying._

He gripped the arrow tighter, clenching it harder and harder in his fist, frustration mounting and mettle receding when it refused to snap. He cursed through gritted teeth.

"I'm never… I will never… I can't…"

"Hello?"

Nico's voice broke him away from his thoughts. Will took a shuddering breath. He had almost forgotten the feeling of cold air rushing into his lungs. He attempted a smile. "Hello," he echoed.

"What, uh, what are you doing?" Nico gestured at the arrow almost comically.

"I'm trying to learn how to shoot." It was obvious, wasn't it?

The faintest smile crept into Nico's ashy cheeks. "You'll need a bow for that," he said quietly. He strode over to the rack and, after much finger-drumming and neck-craning, selected a polished wooden bow and brought it back to Will. "Maple and yew, looks like." He handed it over.

Will held it gingerly in the center of his palm. It teetered, as if it couldn't make up its mind whether the prospect of staying in Will's hand was worse than clattering to the ground.

"It's short," Will said, frowning and glancing over at Kayla. "She has a longer one, and… this one's curved backwards."

"It's called a recurve bow," Nico stated dryly. "Used especially by people who are too weak for a longbow."

He was really smiling now. Will could see the glint of his teeth.

"Really," Will scoffed. "And what do you know about archery?"

"More than you, evidently."

Will's retort was cut short by the sound of the District Two boy hurling One to the ground. The training room was filled suddenly with the shouts of the sparring instructor and the howls of the injured boy. The tributes weren't allowed to attack each other, but Will knew the incident would be overlooked. They were Careers.

"Aren't you from Seven?" Nico said, drawing Will's attention back away from the fight.

"Excuse me?"

"You're from District Seven. Lumber. Your people cut trees for a living. Supposed to make you strong."

Will grimaced. "Most people do." He jerked his head to indicate Kayla. "She does. I don't."

"What do you do?"

"I make paper."

There it was again: a flash of a smile, gone as quickly as it had come. Will blinked to clear his vision. He had been staring too closely at Nico. He looked down at his bow. There was a pregnant pause. He imagined that Nico was smiling.

"You want to at least be able to fight back, Solace," Nico said eventually. "No one wants to die as cornered prey."

Will swallowed. "What about you, then, di Angelo?"

Nico touched his finger to the end of an arrow, raising his black eyebrows. "What about me?"

"Aren't you afraid… of dying?"

"That's not the point. I've already done all I can. You haven't." He tossed the arrow at Will, who scrambled and caught it - just barely. "Besides, I'm not the same as you - any of you."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Will demanded.

"Not the point," Nico repeated. He pulled Will's shoulder back and set his hand on the bow. "You're going to take a deep breath. Inhale as you pull back. And then shoot as you exhale. Release your breath and the arrow at the same time. Now, ready?"

Will nodded. Somehow, the feeling of Nico's hands touching him, arranging his upper body into position around the bow, gave him courage he had never felt before.

* * *

People were scared of Nico di Angelo.

The thought had somehow sprung into Will's head during his sleepless, dream-riddled night, and once it was there, it didn't seem keen on disappearing. Will wasn't usually observant; he rarely found reason to look beyond what was explicitly stated and occasionally interpreted things that were right before his eyes, but the notion seemed so obvious once it had materialized in his mind that Will couldn't find a reason to dismiss it - other than the fact that he had no actual evidence to back up his claim.

Nico di Angelo terrified the other tributes. He really did.

And Will set himself on a task to prove it.

When he looked back over the last few days, he realized there existed plenty of inklings for him to jump to that conclusion. The other tributes always gave Nico a wide berth, whether it was in the training room or during lunch. The girl from his own district avoided speaking with him, and the Careers didn't poke fun or jeer at him like they did to ones from Five and below.

And then there was the incident in the lunchroom yesterday.

Perseus from Two and Thalia from One, all swagger and glares, had approached Will as he was spooning glazed carrots into his plate. Thalia folded her arms and contorted her eyebrows into a valley. Perseus thumped Will in the shoulder. The carrots made a wobbly circuit around his plate, contemplating on whether or not to abandon ship.

"So, I heard you're taking up the bow, Doctor Solace," Perseus said. His mouth sneered; his green eyes fumed.

 _Doctor Solace?_

"Uh, yes," Will stammered. What else could he say?

"You're not going to be any threat to us, are you?" Perseus's voice dropped low. Thalia's valley grew steeper.

"Uh, no," Will said, backing up against the buffet counter.

"Are you sure?" Green eyes turned into narrow slits. Will could almost imagine them with oblong pupils. "You wouldn't want to be the first one missing a head, would you?"

"Yes - I mean, _no_." Will's heart was pumping out a jagged rhythm, and his breaths were coming in out of time. He raised his hands. "I'm sure I'm not a threat, and I - I don't want you to cut off…" His voice trailed away, and his tongue flopped uselessly in his mouth.

Perseus leaned closer. "You don't want what?" His breath smelled strangely like waffles.

"My head…" Will squeaked, then realized what he had said and frantically waved his hands. "That's not what I meant -"

"I think I heard very well what you meant." Perseus grinned and looked back at Thalia, who returned the grin a beat late.

"Leave him alone, Jackson," came a voice from behind Will, and even before he turned he knew it was Nico.

Perseus scowled, and suddenly his features didn't seem so snakelike. "What's this little tree rat to you, di Angelo?"

Nico's fists clenched. His face hardened into chiseled granite. "I said, leave him alone," he repeated forcibly, his voice like frost. "It's not the bloodbath yet."

Perseus rolled back his lithe shoulders. "Calm down, di Angelo," he said with a flick of his wrist. "I was just reminding our little tree rat that he didn't want to get in the way."

Nico's expression darkened, as if rainclouds had rolled over his head. "You won't remind him of anything again, Jackson, not if you don't want your own head to get in my way."

Perseus frowned, but he pulled himself up taller. "All right, whatever." He turned his gaze to Will again, who did his best not to shiver. "Kill you later, Doctor Solace. And you, too, di Angelo." he said with a grin and walked away, Thalia close behind him.

Nico stuffed his hands in his pockets and scowled after them. Will decided that he would be safer looking at his glazed carrots.

"Come on," Nico said after the Careers had been reunited. He led Will to a table, where they sat and stared silently at everything but each other.

"Thanks," Will mumbled eventually.

Nico shrugged. "They're afraid of you," he stated matter-of-factly.

Will laughed, sounding a bit crazed. "No, they're afraid of you, di Angelo. You are death personified." He lowered his voice, "They will be terrified once the Games start. Every time they look over their shoulders, they're going to expect to see you in a hooded cloak holding a great big scythe-"

"I prefer to use a sword," Nico interjected.

"Fine. Holding a sword, then. And one of their heads," Will continued, "with its face frozen in a look of ghastly horror."

"Very poetic."

Will grinned, and after a moment's hesitation, Nico did too, although his smile looked more like a crack in the face of a marble slab than an expression of human emotion.

"Thank you, Solace," he said quietly.

"For what?"

"For being so confident in my ability to kill."

Will snorted. "We make quite the team, don't we?"

"How so?"

"Well." He carefully cut a carrot into two equal halves. "You're a killer, and I'm a healer."

Nico shook his head and looked down at his hands, the corners of his lips flickering upward. Will ate a half a carrot.

"I'm serious, though," he said.

Nico's lips tightened. "About what?"

"I think you scare them. I think you're the only tribute who scares them."

* * *

"I am going to die."

"Don't be stupid, Solace."

Will craned his neck up to look at the ceiling, which seemed to be pressing down on him ever so slowly. "I am going to die," he breathed slowly. "If not now, then tomorrow."

"Goddammit, Will!" Nico exclaimed suddenly. Every head in the room turned to look at him, then swiveled swiftly away when he glared at them. The tributes were all terrified of Nico di Angelo.

"What?" said Will innocently. A part of him was stunned by Nico's outburst. Another part was shocked that Nico had called him _Will_. Not _Solace_ , but _Will_.

The intercom crackled and called for the District One female to enter the Training Center. The only door to the room opened, waited patiently for Thalia Grace to exit, then closed behind her.

Nico lowered his voice. "Stop saying that. You don't - you don't know what you're talking about."

"And you do?" Will returned.

"Yes," Nico whispered fiercely. His eyes bore into Will's. They had never looked so black as they did now.

"You're saying that you're dead," Will stated.

"Yes," Nico said again. "I'm saying… I know what it's like."

"How can you?"

Nico sat back with a sigh. His hands went to his hair. "I can't tell you. It's too much to explain, and I'm not sure how to say it either."

"Tell me," Will pressed.

Nico took a quick breath. "You're going to die someday, Will Solace," he said in a rush. "But it's not going to be today, or tomorrow, or the day after that, or any day that you're in that arena. I'll… I will make sure of it."

Will scowled. "How are you going to do that? Protect me?"

"If I have to."

"Bullshit," Will said vehemently. "It's the Hunger Games. Why would you want anyone to win but yourself?"

Nico tore his hands away from his head and clenched them into fists. "You don't understand," he said through gritted teeth.

"Oh, is it because I have blue eyes?"

"No! It's just… it's a feeling I have. I can't explain it."

Will glared.

"I'm sorry," said Nico.

"Try," demanded Will.

Nico drew his knees up onto his seat and hugged them to his chest. The intercom summoned the male from District Two. Perseus smirked at the two of them as he walked out the room. Evidently - although Will still hoped for a contradiction - his and Nico's conversation had breached the barrier of audibility. But Will didn't care. Perseus and the Careers and what terror they may have injected into Will's thoughts once were only a blip on a foggy horizon. All that mattered now were the next words that would come out of Nico's mouth.

"Okay," Nico whispered.

Will waited. The room seemed to stir restlessly as Nico steadied his breathing.

"When I was six I was experimenting with the power socket in our house, and I accidentally electrocuted myself. They - my father and my little brother - they thought I was dead. They were sure of it. The doctor even said I wouldn't last long." Nico paused, furrowing his brow, as if he was trying to extract a long, sharp needle from the center of his head.

"Were you?" Will asked.

"Yes," Nico said. "Well, no, medically. But I had to be kept on a machine. I was in a coma. My brother said he cried every day." He looked up through Will, his eyes clouded. "They were already mourning, you see, but even when you know someone you love is dead, there's something inside you that just refuses to accept it. Marco refused for six weeks. He fought my father - he was so close to pulling the plug. Every day, he talked with the doctor, and the doctor told him it was no use… I wasn't ever coming back… he's seen so many cases like mine before. But at the end of every day Marco persuaded him again. 'Let's just wait one more day,' he would say. 'Just one more day. You never know what could happen in one day.' It went like that for six weeks… and then…"

"And then what?" Will leaned forward.

"I came back." Nico's face darkened. He looked away, nodding and chewing on the inside of his cheeks.

"But?"

The girl from District Two was called.

"I'm next," said Nico.

"You're not finished." In his urgency, Will gripped his wrist. Nico wrenched away, as if Will's hand was coated in molten iron.

"I was standing on a cliff," Nico said flatly. "It was so dark that I couldn't see it was a cliff, but it had to be, because I could feel an empty space all around me and below me. And there were sounds in the darkness, sounds that were so familiar I couldn't identify them. And I knew, somehow I knew, that if I jumped I would land in the world, not the world I came from, but all the worlds that came before, all the eras that used to be, all of them so uncomprehendingly larger than what we see today." He raised his eyes to meet Will's. Every part of him was shaking. "That's what death is like, Will."

Will was silent. "Why didn't you jump?" he asked finally.

Nico frowned. "It's strange… when I think back on it. I think - I must have heard Marco. It's one of the things doctors tell you will help coma patients. Talk to them. They'll hear you." He stopped to grimace. "I think - I guess it worked. Marco saved my life. He was the only person who was ever capable of saving my life." His voice dropped low, and Will had to strain to hear his last words. "And so I had to save his."

"What do you mean by that?"

Nico took in the sight of Will's puzzled face slowly, as if he was surprised Will was still there. "I volunteered," he stated, as if it couldn't be more obvious. "For him."

Will laid a hand on his shoulder, and this time Nico didn't pull away. "That was very noble of you Nico," he said as warmly as he could.

Nico shrugged. "Had to be done. Marco is too young. He's only thirteen. Besides, there's a part of me that's never really come back. I belong in that darkness. Dying will be like falling asleep after a long day." He laughed suddenly. "And I've been awake far too long."

"Nico…" Will started, but he trailed off. There was nothing he could say.

"Then I thought: I might as well save someone else - someone who actually deserves to live - before I go away for good. And so I chose you." Nico smiled tentatively. "Because you weren't like the others. And because you had the most beautiful eyes I had ever seen. Tell me, do all people from Seven have eyes like yours?"

"No - not many," Will said. "My brothers do. My mom says we got them from our dad."

Nico sniffed. "It must be nice to have a mother."

"It must be nice to have a father," Will replied.

"We must have both had them once." Nico straightened in his seat. "Tell you what: I'll try to find them when I go back."

Will looked at him - really looked at him, and tried to see through him. "How can be so sure… so _resolute_?" He couldn't help it; he asked the question he had asked before. "Aren't you afraid… of actually dying?"

The boy in black scoffed. "I was dead before I turned seven." He turned his head inquiringly at Will. "What about you, Solace? Are you still going to give in? Or are you going to fight it?"

Will only had to think about it for a second. "I'll fight."

Nico's eyes blazed with something other than blackness. "Good."

The intercom crackled, and he was up before his district number was called.

"Good luck," Will said to him as he stepped out the door.

Nico didn't look back.

Time stretched by like molasses. The number of people in the room dwindled. When Will was finally called, he stood too quickly, and his shaking legs nearly buckled underneath him.

The Gamemakers were only a haze of blurry faces and beards to the side of his head, and he forgot about them soon after he nodded to acknowledge them. His throat was dry; his tongue rasped against his teeth. He picked up a bow and a quiver of arrows with scarcely a glance at them and moved down the line of targets, each time landing an arrow in the red circle. His arms and fingers were trembling by the time he was through, and he clenched them tight to still them. He turned to the blur of Gamemakers and saw another red circle in their midst. It was an apple, poised in the snout of a golden honey-roasted pig.

 _Shoot._

But -

 _You're not going to be a threat, are you?_

 _Kill you later, Doctor Solace._

 _Leave him alone._

 _And you, too, di Angelo._

He bowed, sliding the arrow in his hand back into the quiver, heard a man utter a syllable of dismissal, and walked briskly out of the room.


	2. PART II

**A/N: Okay, you want a song to go with this fic? How about... _Lava_? Yes, the Disney one.**

* * *

There was something dreadfully wrong. The sky was dark. Smoke drifted before the sun.

 _60_ , said the timer.

Something was wrong. Perseus was raising his eyebrows at Jason, the boy from One, who in turn raised his eyebrows at Thalia, who nodded at someone Will could not see, hidden behind the Cornucopia on the other side of the clearing.

 _49_.

Will searched for Nico frantically. The Careers were smirking.

 _43\. 42._

There he was, squinting through the ashy air at the Cornucopia in the center of the clearing. He was seven - no eight - starting plates away. Will stared at him, hoping to get his attention.

 _36\. 35._

"Nico," he muttered under his breath.

But the boy in black was busy surveying the field.

 _There will be backpacks full of necessary survival supplies close to the starting plates,_ Chiron had told him and Kayla the night before. _Grab one as quickly as you can and run for shelter. Don't bother with the weapons._

Will had wondered if Nico's mentor had told him something entirely different.

 _25\. 24. 23._

"Look up," he growled. "Dammit, di Angelo. Look _up_."

 _20\. 19. 18_

Nico finally did. He met Will's eyes with a puzzled expression. Will imagined that the look on his own face must have been painstakingly contorted.

He spread out his hands. _What will you do?_

Nico pointed at the Cornucopia and mimed a slashing motion. _A sword_.

 _13\. 12. 11._

Will shook his head at him vigorously, but Nico had already looked away. The Careers were coiled like springs. Will turned to the field. There was a dark green bag about 20 meters away. He trained his eyes on it.

 _Five_.

No, wait. 80, maybe 100, meters farther away there was a longbow and a well-stocked quiver.

 _Four._

No, he had to find shelter. Chiron had said so.

 _Three._

But it was a _bow_. Practically already in his grasp.

 _Two_.

But the Careers. And Nico. Especially Nico. Will couldn't leave him behind.

 _One._

The horn sounded. Will leaped off his plate. He saw Nico, a wisp of black in the corner of his vision, as he hurtled across the field. Will's hand closed around the strap of the bag. He took a few faltering steps forward, in the direction of the bow, and paused. Nico had sprinted ahead, dashing for the Cornucopia. He was all right. He would make it, Will thought.

And then he saw the Careers closing in on the boy in black, with glinting eyes and gleaming, white-sharp teeth, like a pack of blood bound wolves.

"Nico!" Will shouted, and without thinking, he ran forward and snatched up the bow.

Nico had seen the Careers now. He raised a hastily-procured wooden axe to deflect Jason's club, then whirled around to block the knife Thalia threw. A girl from District Four rushed him with a sharpened stick, which he caught on the hilt of his weapon and threw aside.

The bowstring strummed as Will hastily nocked an arrow. Perseus had emerged from inside the Cornucopia and was rushing at Nico now, a gleaming bronze sword in his hand.

Will inhaled and drew. The tip of the arrow was pointed at Perseus's heart. Will knew it would not miss.

 _Shoot._

Nico was preoccupied with Jason and Thalia and the girl from Four. Perseus raised his sword, closing the distance between the blade and Nico's neck in three long strides…

Will adjusted his aim and released.

Perseus fell back with a scream, an arrow buried in his shoulder. His sword clattered to the ground The other Careers faltered, their eyes turning to Perseus. Nico dashed away. Will pulled out another arrow and nocked it. He approached the Careers cautiously, stopping once he was within speaking distance.

"Take one step after him, and I'll shoot - for your heads this time," Will bluffed.

They froze. Thalia glared. Jason and the girl from Four looked bewildered. Perseus winced in pain.

Nico appeared again, armed with a black sword and a small shield. He skirted around the Careers and joined Will.

"Let's go," he said and started away at a jog without a backward glance.

Will followed, keeping the bowstring tight and arrow in place even after Perseus said, "Let them go. We'll get them later." and the Careers fell upon the other tributes in the promised bloodbath. He only dared relax his grip when he and Nico were well in the cover of the ashy forest.

* * *

"Thank you for… helping me," Nico said as they made their way generally downhill.

"No problem," Will panted. His throat felt dry and scratchy and his eyes watery from the sooty air. He coughed. His chest hurt. "Let's just find some water."

They had already examined the contents of Will's backpack, which contained a coil of rope, a bag of dried beef and fruit, a water bottle - empty, a thermal blanket, and a vial of iodine.

"I know," Nico said glumly. "Water runs downhill. Where there's mud or animals, there's water. We just haven't found any yet."

They trudged onward. Slowly - so slowly it was almost imperceptible - the air became easier to breathe, and the sun gradually sifted down through the clearing smoke. The ground turned slippery, and Will lost his footing and fell down in a brown puddle.

"It's mud, Nico! It's mud," he laughed, scrambling to his feet, then doubled over in a coughing fit.

When he straightened up, he found Nico inspecting him with concern.

"What?" He dusted himself off as best as he could and raised his mud-streaked hands to show that everything was all right. "I'm fine."

Nico said nothing. They continued moving and eventually came upon a small creek, where Will filled the bottle with water and added five drops of iodine. They waited an excruciating hour for the water to purify, guzzled it down almost ravenously, and filled it three times more before their thirst was sated.

By then it was nightfall, and the air had turned chillingly cold. They huddled among the roots of a tall fir tree - the branches were too thin to climb - and spread the blanket over them. The Panem national anthem played, and the faces of the tributes who died flashed across the sky. Eleven in all, including Kayla and the girl from Two Will had never recalled seeing.

When the last face disappeared, all was dark, and Will might as well have been blind. The only sensation he could feel was the warmth of Nico beside him.

"Let's just go to sleep."

"Yeah."

Their fingers touched underneath the blanket.

"You're cold - are you cold?" Nico's hand was warm. He didn't wait for an answer. "We can build a fire."

"No, the Careers will be able to see us."

"I bet they've built a fire."

For Will the night passed in fitful intervals of lucid dreams and dreamlike consciousness. The cannon boomed twice, although Will wasn't quite sure if the sound that awakened him wasn't his own coughing. His lungs were on fire. The wolves were on the hunt.

"It's the smoke," Nico said drowsily sometime in the early morning. "You're sick."

"I'm fine," Will insisted.

"I'll build a fire."

"No, the Careers have been hunting all night."

"You're dying."

"I'm not. You're protecting me… remember?"

He could feel Nico rolling his eyes.

* * *

 _Sponsors are the key to winning the Games,_ Chiron had said _. Everything you've done up to this point - the interviews, making alliances, the training scores - was all to gain support._

The silver parachute fell down to them as the sun rose. Will was packing up his bag when Nico caught it. There was a length of wire inside, wound around a spool, which Nico showed to him, and a piece of rolled-up paper, which Nico kept to himself.

Will didn't mind. The wire signified that it was from District Three and that it was for Nico's eyes only.

"Come on," Nico said once he was finished reading. He folded up the paper and put it in his pocket.

They sloshed through the creek. On the other side, Nico led Will a little ways into the cover of trees and stopped before a thick trunk with a hollowed knoll.

 _There will be cameras everywhere. The Gamemakers - no, all of Panem - will want to see your every move._

Was there a camera buried in the trunk of that tree? Why had Nico brought them here?

"Nico," Will began, "what -"

"I have an idea," Nico interrupted. His eyes were downcast, and he talked swiftly, stumbling over his words. "I have an idea - more of a plan, really - of how to get rid of the Careers."

"Get rid of them?" Will repeated. "You mean _kill_ them?"

Nico glanced up at him, then looked away again. "Yes, we exterminate the threat before it can harm us. It's the only way."

"No," Will barked. "We can't do that. I'll never be able to -"

"We have to," Nico insisted. "They'll kill us if we don't. You said it yourself: The Careers were hunting all night. They're looking for us already."

Will could only shake his head.

"I'm trying to protect you!"

"Fine! Then I don't need your protection. I'll leave. I don't want any part of this."

"We're a team," Nico protested. "And it's the Games. Those people - they want to see a show. And we have to give it to them. Our lives depend on it."

Will felt his hands curl into fists. "Di Angelo, I don't think you heard me. I can't kill -"

But Nico didn't let him finish. He lurched forward and pressed his mouth to Will's. The kiss was short and urgent, and it felt like Nico was saying _please, please, please, Will_. And Will kissed him back tentatively - _please, what?_ \- before he came to his senses and pushed Nico away as far as he could. The boy in black fell back on the tree, his head thudding against the knoll that must have contained a camera.

Will touched a finger to his lips. It tasted like sponsors.

"What the hell are you doing?" he yelled.

"Please, Will…" Nico stared with entreating eyes.

"I hate you!" Will shouted, not quite able to stop himself. "I wish I had never met you."

"Will -"

But Will turned and ran back across the creek and through the forest and up the hill, stopping only when the air turned smoky and he couldn't breathe. Unexplainable tears welled in his eyes, and he wiped them furiously away.

He didn't ask for this. He was fully prepared to fight if it meant defending Nico and himself, but he couldn't do _this_. He couldn't kill because he was asked to kill. He wasn't a Career. He wasn't fighting to win. He was only fighting to survive.

"Damn you, di Angelo," he said, his voice breaking.

He continued forward. The ground sloped upward, growing steeper with each step. Dirt and grass turned to gravel, then to stone, and the air grew thicker and blacker. Many times he tripped on a loose rock and fell. His knees and hands were skinned and bloody. He was constantly racked by fits of coughing.

Maybe Nico was right and he wouldn't die at the mercy of the Careers by some wicked metal weapon. Maybe he would die from sickness. Will laughed loudly, coughed more loudly, and decided he would welcome that death with open arms.

The Careers were on the move again. As Will climbed, he counted four booms of the cannon. He could only hope one of them wasn't for Nico.

The ground rumbled, and the smoke thickened. Will scurried for cover, squeezing himself into a small hole between the rocks, which opened up on the inside and turned out to be a moderately-sized cavern. He knew now that he wasn't on a mountain, but a volcano. The smoke and falling ash and quaking earth explained that credibly.

He watched the faces of the fallen flash by through the opening above and was relieved when Nico's wasn't shown. He would go back to the creek tomorrow, he decided as he rolled onto his side and stifled another cough. He had acted too rashly today.

But the kiss -

Nico had acted rashly, too. But there must have been a reason. He must have known there was a camera in the tree. The only question was _why?_

Will pulled the blanket around his shoulders and leaned back against his bag.

Tomorrow.

* * *

He woke, shivering, to the sight of a figure crouched in the entrance of the cave.

"Nico?" he said blearily, rubbing at his eyes. "Nico, it's so cold in here. How come it's cold in the side of a volcano?"

"You're sick. I'll build you a fire," came Nico's voice.

"No." Will bolted upright. "No, the Careers. What happened to them? What did you do to them?"

 _Calm down, Solace. It's a game. Those people - they just want to see a show._

Will rubbed his eyes and blinked rapidly. He looked again. The figure had disappeared. Morning sunlight streamed through the crack in the rocks.

"Shit," he muttered and lay back against his bag with a heavy sigh.

* * *

Nico's shield was standing against the tree where they had slept the first night. The ground around it was strewn with silver parachutes, baskets open and empty. Will walked to the edge of the creek, peering into the woods on the other side.

"Nico?" he called.

The boy in black appeared in a blink of an eye, as if he had materialized from the shadows, which Will was almost certain he was capable of doing. He looked haggard; there were dark circles under his eyes, which suggested that he had been up since the crack of dawn. He held a strange device in his hands.

"I thought you would come back," he said with a trace of an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry, if that helps."

"You're sorry for what? Kissing me?"

Nico shook his head shyly. "No, I'm not sorry for that. I should have explained myself better. You don't have to kill anyone, Will. I'm sorry."

Will cleared his throat. "I'm sorry, too. I don't hate you. I'm actually - actually, I'm glad we met."

Nico smiled, and it was the most beautiful one yet.

There was rustling in the trees behind Will.

Nico's eyes widened at once. "Run, Will."

Will did not need to be told twice. He ducked and jumped - just in time. A knife hurtled over his head and buried itself, hilt deep, in the opposite creek bed. He landed in the water with a tremendous splash, and his bow slipped off his shoulder. He went after it and managed to grab it before it was swept away by a stronger current. He could feel the vibrations of the stampede of footsteps behind him, rumbling like the volcano. He imagined he could hear the growls of bloodthirsty wolves.

"Get him! Get them both!" Perseus's voice, tinged with vengeance.

Will half-swam half-ran to the other side. He pulled himself up, but his clothes were wet and dragging him down and he was _too slow_. He could hear the sounds of the Careers behind him, the whistling of Thalia's knives. Any moment now and -

He was up and out of the water, and he was sprinting for the trees and for Nico, reaching for his arm.

"Run, Nico!" he shouted.

But Nico did not move. He merely stood and held his strange device, and behind Will there came the sound of bloodcurdling screams.

"Nico? What…" He skidded to a halt and looked back. There were four shapes floating in the water, small and lifeless and so human.

 _So that's what Careers look like when they die. Just like any of us._

And there was one more standing on the muddy bank on the other side, his face white and stricken, his shoulder covered in white gauze, his bronze sword drooping in his hand.

"Step in, if you want," Nico called to Perseus. "You're welcome to join them."

Perseus seemed to see them for the first time. His expression morphed into one of horror. "You… monsters!" he screamed at them, then turned and ran back through the trees.

"Nico, what did you do?" Will asked in a whisper. He couldn't take his eyes off the bodies.

"Electrocution," said Nico simply.

"That was… your plan?"

"Yes. This is what Beetee sent me yesterday."

Will took the paper Nico handed him, and it trembled as he read it.

 _Have enough sponsors for the plan. They just need a show. - B_

* * *

They spent the rest of the day in near silence. The sky above them grew darker with plumes of ash, which seemed to be making their way slowly down the mountain. Will conjectured that it was the Gamemakers' way of announcing the endgame.

Nico borrowed Will's bow and tried to bring down a wild groosling. After a few failed attempts and wasted arrows, Will wordlessly took the bow and shot one on his first try. It made him sick to the stomach.

As the bird roasted on a spit over a small fire, Nico tried to strike up a conversation.

"Have you found out where the smoke's coming from?"

"It's a volcano," Will answered, eyes fixed on the glowing embers.

"Huh." Nico ran a hand through his hair. "It looks like it's about to erupt."

* * *

 _"Attention all tributes: There will be a feast. Please present yourself at the Cornucopia as soon as possible. Remember, this feast is not mandatory, but it will be in your best interest to attend. Good luck, and may the odds be ever in your favor."_

"Are we going?"

"We have to."

"Perseus will be there."

"And so will your chance at winning."

* * *

The ground shook as they walked back through the forest. The grass in the clearing where the Games began was gray with ash, and the once-golden Cornucopia was peppered black. Will imagined that their faces didn't look much better. He would be able to see if his eyes weren't burning.

At the mouth of the Cornucopia sat three drawstring bags, each bearing a district number. Perseus was already there, picking up the bag on the far left and undoing the string. Once he saw Will and Nico, he concealed the bag behind him and whipped out his sword.

"Don't come any closer," he warned.

Nico raised his hands lazily. "Look, 'Doctor Solace' can shoot out your eye from here, so you either let us see our bags and we won't hurt you, or he does just that."

Perseus gulped visibly and lowered his sword. "Fine."

Will made the rest of his way to the Cornucopia warily and picked up the bag with the number seven. He opened it with fumbling fingers and reached inside. His hand closed around a smooth, rectangular object. He pulled it out.

It was a remote. With a single protruding bright red button in the center.

Will turned to Nico in perplexity, who held the same object in his hands. Together, they looked at Perseus.

"What do you have?" Will asked.

Perseus hesitated, then reached in his bag and drew out a similar remote.

"What are these -" Will started.

Nico held up a finger. "Wait."

The voice of the announcer flooded the arena. _"My congratulations are in order, tributes. You have made the right decision. What you hold in your hands are devices engineered by our Gamemakers that interact with the tracking devices in your arms, enabling them to emit a strong electric signal through your body, which, if I may add, is fatal. Now, each of you holds the remote that controls the tracking device of one of the two other tributes. Converse and decide who will die and who will live. And, as always, may the odds be ever in your favor."_

Perseus was already backing away. "If I press this button, one of you dies, and I can easily deal with the other."

"No, Perseus," Nico said slowly. "We can talk about this."

Perseus shook his head. "I'm not talking about anything - not with you, Death Boy. You see it, don't you? I'm going to win." He turned and started running.

"No, Perseus!" Nico called after his fleeing figure. "The Gamemakers - they could be lying!"

But Perseus didn't look back.

"Will." Nico turned to him, and Will knew what he had to do.

He nocked an arrow and drew his bow. Inhale. The tip of the arrow pointing at Perseus's back, over his heart. Will saw him reach for his remote, his fist hovering over the button. It was now or never. He let out his breath and released. The bowstring sighed. The arrow flew.

Perseus's hand came down. The volcano erupted.

* * *

"Death Boy," Nico mused. "I like it. It suits me."

They were sitting on top of the Cornucopia under the night sky, watching as lava trickled slowly down the sides of the volcano and encroached upon a writhing Perseus, who had long since given up screaming for mercy and now only lay bleeding out on the ground, his heart beating vainly against Will's arrow.

"I killed him." Will was resisting the urge to gag.

"He would have died anyway," Death Boy replied indifferently.

Will considered the remote in his hand. "I should press this. It should cause another eruption. It would make it faster for him."

Nico snatched the remote away. Will couldn't find the strength to protest. "No. We can't control the eruptions. What if the next one's like Pompeii? Besides, would _you_ rather be burned alive or shot to death by an arrow?"

Will covered his face with his hands. "I just… I can't watch him."

"Then don't."

Will blinked rapidly against his palms. "You were right," he said softly. "The Gamemakers lied to us. Why?"

Nico didn't answer for a long time. "They want to see who wins… between the two of us."

The lava had reached Perseus, because he was screaming now. The shrill sounds of agony pierced Will's ears, but his heart continued steadily on without a twinge of guilt or remorse. He laid his head on Nico's lap, and the boy in black wrapped his arms around him, encasing him in a cocoon of darkness. There, Will cried silently for himself.

"I killed him," he whispered. "So why don't I feel anything?"

 _It gets old real fast, killing does,_ said a voice in his head, and he couldn't remember if it was something Chiron had told him or part of his own subconscious speaking.

"I'm sorry," Nico murmured. His fingers ran through Will's hair and down his back, moving like rivulets of warm rain. "I'm sorry. I broke you."

Will laughed brokenly at Nico's choice of words and clutched at him tighter. He didn't want to ever let go.

"You'll have to shoot me. Tomorrow."

The cannon sounded for Perseus.

Tomorrow, then. But now, Will only wanted to fall asleep telling himself that Nico would forever be beside him.

* * *

When Will woke the next morning, Nico was gone, and beneath him the lava had hardened to stone. After a taking swig of water and collecting his thoughts, he slid off the Cornucopia and began climbing the volcano.

He reached the top this time, sweaty and exhausted. Standing on the rim, he could see into the belly of the mountain. Deep below, there was a pool of bubbling orange.

Nico was standing on the opposite side, facing away, his back toward Will. Instinctively, Will shouldered off his bow, nocked an arrow, and drew back.

 _You'll have to shoot me._

He didn't. He really didn't. He could jump into the volcano now, and Nico would be the victor.

 _Now is your chance._

Nico hadn't seen him or heard him. He was looking away, peacefully oblivious. Still, it didn't seem right.

 _Would you rather shoot him while looking in his eyes?_

Yes. Yes, maybe he did. Anything else would be cowardly.

He pulled his arm back a millimeter. Inhale. His shoulder creaked with tension. Sweat beaded across his upper lip.

 _It's now or never. Kill or be killed._

"Nico," Will called. He lowered the bow.

Nico spun around. "Oh, you're here. I didn't hear you." He squinted at Will and smiled vaguely. "How long were you standing there?"

"Long enough," Will breathed.

"You still can't do it, can't you?"

Will shook his head. Nico put his hands in his pockets.

"I've been thinking for a while…" said the boy in black. "I had a plan, and I thought… Many times I thought I should abandon it… I really liked you, Will. Maybe even a little more than I gave myself credit for."

Will's head spun. Nico wasn't making any sense, but as always, he didn't give Will a chance to speak.

"I'm really sorry, Will," he continued. "I'm really, really sorry."

And he drew his hands out of his pockets, and Will saw he was holding both of their remotes. Nico had taken his last night, when he was going to press it for Perseus. And Will had trusted him. He had trusted Nico enough not to care…

"I'm sorry." And he pressed the red buttons.

And Will looked away from Nico's face just in time to see the lava rushing up at them from below -


	3. Epilogue?

**A/N: Are you ready for a plot twist?**

* * *

He was standing on a cliff. It was dark. He raised a hand in front of his eyes with great effort - it felt like he was moving through pitch - and wiggled his fingers. Nothing. Just blackness.

He knew he was on a cliff because… well, he could feel a great empty space beneath him and all around him. And he could go anywhere, if he were down there. He could see anything - if only it wasn't so dark. The possibilities were limitless. The space was that large. But he didn't want to move. Because if he took one step forward… he was on the edge… one tiny step, and he would fall.

"Aren't you going?" said someone behind him. The voice was so familiar that he couldn't remember who it belonged to.

He took a step back. His foot met solid ground. "No, I don't think so." He let the person pass before him.

"Are you sure?" the familiar stranger asked.

"I think so. I think I'll stay back for now." He frowned. There was something else. But he couldn't remember. "I think - I think…"

 _I think I love you._

But that was ridiculous - he didn't even know, he couldn't even see the person - so he kept it to himself.

"Who are you?" he said instead.

"It doesn't matter anymore," came the reply. "I'm going to jump."

"Okay."

"Who are you?"

"I am…" He clawed through his mind. The answer had to be there somewhere. There was no reason for him to forget his own name. "I am - "

* * *

 _" - Will Solace, the victor of the 72nd Hunger Games!"_

* * *

Everything was white and fuzzy when he opened his eyes. He blinked, and blinked again. Slowly, a window came into focus. Two figures were sitting in chairs at the side of his bed. He struggled to see their faces, then shut his eyes again, exhausted.

"Solace?" said a voice.

"He's not awake," said the other in an exasperated whisper.

"I just saw him open his eyes," retorted the first.

Will lifted his lids again. The first voice sounded oddly familiar. "Chiron?" It came out audible, but hoarse. His throat felt scratchy. He coughed weakly.

"He's awake!" Chair legs scraped against the wooden floor. "Solace, how are you feeling?" said Chiron's voice. "Can you sit up?"

Eventually Will was sitting upright with the help of a few pillows and sipping a glass of water. His vision had cleared, and he could see a beaming Chiron and a little man with a nearly bald head and round glasses.

"Who are you?" he asked the stranger.

The bald leaned forward. "My name is Beetee," he said quietly. "Do you remember what happened?"

Will shook his head. The room spun. "N-no," he choked out.

"You were in the Games, Solace," Chiron told him. "Do you remember that?"

Will's head was pounding. "I don't know."

"Drink some water," Beetee commanded.

Will did and felt slightly better.

"Now, can you tell us the last thing you remember?"

Will searched back. He was standing on a cliff, and then… "Fire… pain… lava," he managed.

"Good." Beetee was leaning so far he was almost out of his chair. "Anything else?"

Will remembered with a start. "Nico," he said suddenly. His hand jerked. Water spilled onto his sheets. "Shit."

"It's okay," Chiron said.

"Nico - where is he?" He searched the two mens' faces frantically. Both expressions turned grave.

"Tell me about Nico," said Beetee.

"He said he was dead before, but he came back to life," Will said in a rush. "He said he would protect me. He kissed me to get sponsors. He killed the Careers by electrocuting them. He stole my remote and made the volcano erupt. He said he was sorry. He said I would have to kill him to win because he had died already and it didn't matter to him. He wanted me to win, but I couldn't kill him, even though he told me to. He said that he liked me… and - and I liked him, too. Where is he?"

"Solace," Chiron said sadly. "Nico di Angelo… he didn't make it out. I'm sorry."

"Oh." Will fell silent. Part of him had already known, but the rest of him was hoping, wishing… _please, Nico, please._

"I'm sorry that I have to tell you this, Will," Beetee began. "But -"

"Beetee, maybe you shouldn't…" said Chiron.

"He deserves to know, Chiron," Beetee responded. "Nico would have wanted him to know."

"What is it?" Will said, almost impatiently. "Tell me."

"Nico di Angelo was part of the Resistance," Beetee began in a nervous whisper, "a group of secret revolutionists plotting to overthrow the Capitol and end the Hunger Games. He had a plan, and it was a good one, too, if you ask me. He was going to spit in the Gamemakers' faces - and Snow's, too."

Will's mouth was dry. "What was the plan?" he asked dully.

"He was going to kill himself and you at the same time. That way, there would be no victor to the 72nd annual Hunger Games." Beetee looked at his hands in defeat. "But they got to you in time. The hovercraft pulled you out of the arena and left him to die."

"No," Will muttered. "No, Nico said - he _said_ -"

Beetee looked up sharply. "Everything Nico said to you was a lie."

"No. No." Will shook his head violently. He didn't care how much it hurt.

"The boy he volunteered for wasn't his brother. Nico had two sisters. One died in the Games a few years ago. The one who is alive is his half sister. He never electrocuted himself. He was never in a coma. What else did he tell you?"

Will was crying for no reason again. "Nothing. Nothing else."

Beetee sat back with a sigh.

"Maybe we should go, Beetee," Chiron suggested.

Beetee sprang to his feet immediately. "Yes, perhaps we should."

"Sorry, Will," Chiron said as he closed the door, his tone subdued.

Will lay in bed for a few more moments, blinking his tears away, but the room was too quiet and the sounds of his mother cooking and brothers laughing downstairs were too loud. He slid out from under the sheets and made his way slowly to the adjoining bathroom.

He nearly screamed when he saw himself in the mirror.

His face was covered with flickering red scars, as if the lava was still crawling over his cheeks, eating away at his flesh. His hair had been burned away. There was a layer of soft fuzz covering his scalp. And his eyes…

His eyes were red and bloodshot, and the rims were scabbed and crusted brown. Will peered closer in the mirror, looking, searching. In the center of the masses of angry red veins, were bottomless black holes where his pupils should have been. And around them - there was scarcely any blue left.

 **FIN**

* * *

 **Edit: After some "extensive" research on HG Wikia, I've found that all the Games from 69 and up have definite details about their arenas and victors. But you purists are just going to have to deal with the fact that I'm not willing to change the year and set this story way back at 68 because... well, contrary to the big FIN above the line break, this story is not finished...**


	4. Icarus

**No longer for the contest.**

 **This is kind of like an epilogue of the epilogue that might turn out longer than the actual story, I suppose.**

* * *

There was a girl who lived in the house next to his in Victor Village that Will visited every day. Not because he liked her - she wasn't likable at all - or because she was captivating - no, she drew attention to herself only when something needed to be killed - but simply because she understood him and he understood her.

"Do you know what they're calling you now?" she asked him as she ground two pills into snow-white powder.

He sat at the kitchen table and stared out the window, feeling his eyes tighten and burn when they touched the light for too long. "No," he answered.

She tapped out his allotment of morphine on the table in front of him. "You should put on your glasses if you're going to stare at the sun."

He did as she instructed, and his eyes watered silently under the dark frames. She handed him a straw. He sniffed slowly and sat back with a sigh of contentment. Everyone had their demons, including victors. Especially victors.

"What are they calling me?" he asked as Johanna did her own morphine.

She grinned at him, and it raised the hairs on the back of his neck. "Icarus," she answered. "Will Icarus Solace, the boy who flew too close to the sun."

Will surprised himself by laughing. "The sun," he repeated. "The sun? It was a volcano."

She shrugged. "They're creative."

He tapped his fingers, lapsing into thought. He suppose he did, in a way, fly too close to the sun, but it was disputable on what that _sun_ was in actuality. Was it Nico di Angelo? Should Will have been less trustful of him? Was the Capitol laughing at his blind naivety? Or was it the secret Nico had been hiding? Were they warning him not to get too involved with the rebellion?

 _Turn away from the Capitol, and our fires will swallow everyone you love._

"I wouldn't think too much about it if I were you," Johanna said.

Will shook his head to clear it. "What are you talking about?"

She grinned again. "Relax. It's just a stupid name, that's all."

"Can I have some water?"

She huffed in annoyance and made a show of heaving herself out of her chair. She slammed the cupboard after taking out a glass and stomped over to the kitchen sink, turning the faucet on full force. Will stared out the window.

"You know, you should be glad for your face," Johanna said, setting down the glass of water with a thunk. "They could have fixed it, made you back into that pretty boy you were, but they left the scars on you to teach you a lesson. Or rather, teach the Rebels a lesson."

Will grunted.

"There won't be much of a difference soon."

He glanced at Johanna. "You think I'm going to join the Resistance?"

She rolled her eyes. "Oh please, I _know_ you're going to join the Resistance. All the victors do. We're sick of the way the fucking Capitol treats us and our Districts. You know what the President makes the pretty victors do - even the ones half as good-looking as you?"

"What?"

"He turns them into whores for the Capitol citizens." Johanna seemed angrier than usual. "I don't know, but there's something goddamn attractive to them about fucking a person who killed little children and watching them writhe in their sleep from nightmares about blood and spewing guts and hands around a purple throat -"

She stopped suddenly and put a finger on her pulse. Will regarded her tight lips, flaring nostrils, and large, fierce eyes.

"Why didn't the President make you?" he asked.

She laughed, sounding like something in between a braying donkey and a howling dog. "He tried. I refused. That's why I live alone now."

"Oh." Will took a sip of his water. "I'm sorry."

She knew he was. She waved a hand. "I'm surprised you even asked. You think I'm as pretty as you were?"

"No. I think you're half as pretty."

She glowered at him. "Oh, you're so full of yourself."

"I was," he corrected.

She regarded him with catlike eyes. "Will Solace," she said slowly. "Will Icarus Solace. When I first saw you, I thought you were the cutest thing to ever walk onto the television screen. Now look at you, sitting in my kitchen, looking as ugly as hell, doing morphine, talking about how broken we are - how broken the world is." Her tone turned scathing. "I hate you."

"I hate you, too," he said without hesitation, and it was true. He drew breath to continue, to finish the thought, but she was faster.

"You remind me too much of myself," Johanna said with disgust.

She stole the words right out of his mouth.

* * *

He always dreaded going home, even though his time spent with Johanna Mason was often far from enjoyable. He hated the looks his older brothers would give him, as if they expected him to shatter any moment, and how his mother's soft eyes and plastered (but beautiful) smile made him want to cry. He hated how they waited for him, for breakfast and for dinner, sitting at the dining room table with plates of untouched food, and how he deliberately prolonged his appearances in hopes that they would give up. He hated how they were always there in his weakest moments, how he wanted to reach out to them, and how he wouldn't let himself do so. He didn't want them like this. He didn't need them. _He didn't need them._

"Will?" his mother called when he opened the door. She came into the entryway.

"Hello," he said stiffly. She never used to greet him like this before. It was always _I'm home!_ he and his brothers echoing each other and _Dinner's ready!_ and a fight for the warmest, softest roll, and an extra score if it had butter.

"You're just in time. Dinner's on the table," she said, reaching for his glasses. He flinched away from her - he didn't like her seeing his new eyes - and her hand fell to his shoulder instead.

"The light hurts my eyes," he mumbled as a brief excuse. His mother nodded. It was dark outside, and the small chandelier hanging over the entryway was not lit.

She guided him to the dining room without ever letting go of him, for fear that he might slip away again, he supposed. His brothers looked up at him balefully as he entered, their blue eyes shining brightly in the dim light.

"Hi, Will," said Austin.

"How are you?" said Michael.

"Peachy," replied Will.

His mother sat down - perched, really - on the edge of her seat, and he hovered over his chair before settling in it. His brothers used to pull his chair out from under him as he sat down, but now it didn't seem like they remembered ever doing such a thing.

They ate quietly, and except for the occasional "could you pass the salt, please?" the only sound that could be heard was diligent chewing.

"So, uh, that girl…" began Michael.

"You were with her all day?" finished Austin.

Will nodded. The chicken was too dry, and there was a big lump of meat stuck in his throat. He hurriedly downed his glass of water before he started choking.

"You must be really into her," said Michael.

Will took another bite, chewed, and swallowed. The vegetables were too soft; they fell apart against his teeth.

"I don't like Johanna Mason, if that's what you mean," he said bluntly as soon as his mouth was empty.

"Oh." Michael's face colored, and he stared down at his plate, his knife hand fidgeting.

"Then why do you go over to her house, if you don't like her?" asked Austin. "I mean, what do you two talk about?

 _Why don't you want to see us?_ was the real question.

Will resisted the urge to laugh. "We're both killers, I guess," he answered. "We talk about killing."

His mother suppressed a wince. She didn't like it when he talked about the Games, and he didn't like it because she grew more sympathetic afterward. He turned to her immediately, apology in his eyes, then remembered that she couldn't see through his glasses.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I shouldn't have said that - I - I don't know why I did." He stood up suddenly, almost knocking over his chair. "Excuse me."

He went up the stairs two at a time, his chest tight when he reached the landing, pushed open the door to his room, and fell onto his bed, breathing hard. He stifled the first choked sob with a pillow and cried silently after that, his shoulders shaking with little spasms.

 _Doctor Solace._

 _Doctor Will Icarus Solace._

His hands were made to heal, to pick herbs, to press fingerprints on paper, to write down snippets of his heady thoughts. Not to hold a bow, not to puncture a beating heart, not to paint with the blood-tipped feathers of an arrow.

 _Will._

He had done it all at Nico's command. Taken a life without a second thought. All because of a single word from death. He still couldn't sleep without seeing Perseus, with his mouth twisted in agony, shouting at Will, _Why? Why? Why!_ He bit his pillow and buried his face deeper in its softness, hoping to find something solid, something he could understand. He didn't know what to do. He was lost. He didn't know what to do.

 _Oh, please. All victors join the Resistance._

Would he? Was she right? Why would he do anything that would remind him more of Nico di Angelo?

"Will." His mother. He hadn't heard her come up the stairs. "Are you in there?"

He hurriedly turned on his back and flipped the pillow over so she wouldn't see the tear stains. She flicked the lights on as she walked in. Wordlessly, she sat on the side of his bed. The mattress creaked and dipped in her direction. He wanted to do the same.

"You still miss him, don't you?" she said softly.

It was clever, phrasing it as a question. She knew the answer, no doubt, and she knew it would elicit a response from him, however brief it may be. Nico would have just said, _You missed me, Solace, just admit it._ And Will would run and hug him, staggering from the force of it, sobbing uncontrollably -

"Yes," he responded, his tone too sharp, wiping the images from his mind.

"It was the same for me with your father," she said, and Will turned his head to her in surprise. He never liked hearing about Pol Solace because whenever his mother spoke about him she would cry, and this time was no exception. But this time, the tears in her eyes seemed to him more like an invitation than a inhibition. "After he had his… accident, I felt that I could barely go on," she continued, her voice small but steady. "I spent every day lingering in bed, breathing in the scent of him and crying. I put a little of his aftershave on his pillow each night, and I would hold it while I slept. I didn't wash the sheets for a month." His mother smiled weakly, and her hand went to his hair. "Sentimentality, I suppose. It's good if you don't understand."

 _But I do,_ Will wanted to say. But he didn't have anything to remember Nico by, except for dreams and hallucinations, and he wasn't sure what was real anymore. He leaned into his mother's palm. Her other hand came up, hovering over his glasses.

"Is is all right if I take these off?" she asked.

"It's fine," he said.

The lights in the ceiling made his eyes burn and water, but he had been crying already anyway.

"Tell me about Nico," his mother requested.

Will smiled wryly. "There's not much. Turns out I didn't know him that well at all, in the end."

"I'm sure you did." His mother ran her fingers through his hair. It was long and shaggy so that it could hang over his scars, and he hadn't washed it in days. "A person and their motives are entirely different things."

Sometimes. Sometimes not so much, Will thought, but still he kept silent. His mother couldn't know that Nico was the Resistance, and that the Resistance was Nico, and Will wanted to change that, but couldn't, and he wanted to accept it, but couldn't. There wasn't a part of the Nico he knew that wasn't tainted by Nico the Rebel, and Will didn't know what to do with his memories anymore.

So he told his mother: "He betrayed me." Which was true, in a way, but Nico had used him more than he had betrayed him. He used Will's trust, his body, his emotions, his innocence, and at the culmination of his plan, his trap, which Will had blindly and unknowingly stumbled into, Nico had suggested that maybe he hadn't meant to be so cold-hearted after all.

"He didn't have any other choice," said his mother.

He couldn't tell her about the Resistance. How would the President punish her if he did?

"But I trusted him," Will said, choosing his words with care. "I was stupid enough to believe everything he said. I thought he was my friend. I l -" he choked on the word, "I liked him - a lot. When I was with him during the Games, I felt - I felt… unbeatable. Now, when I think of him, he only makes me feel weak."

There. He had said all that he could. He had believed the lie - just for a second - that it would make him feel better.

"We all have weaknesses, Will," his mother said. "Even the bravest and the best of us, but it is not our weaknesses that make us weak."

"They're not?" Will asked. For a moment, he felt like a child again, listening to his mother read from her book of collected fairy tales.

 _Could she feel the pea or not?_

 _I don't know. You'll have to wait and see._

His mother smiled kindly. "No, it is how we treat them. The weak let their weaknesses define them. But the strong display their weaknesses for the world to see. They turn them into their strengths."

Will said nothing, mulling over her words.

"When your father died, I didn't want to ever let go of him. There were some days when I felt sure I wouldn't be able to keep on living. But I eventually saw that my grieving was hurting your brothers. They were so young, and they were so scared. They were trying to be strong, but they were failing. And I was failing them. So I tried not to think about your father's death anymore and focused only on remembering the happiest moments we shared when he was alive. It was hard, and sometimes I found myself despairing again - I still do - but soon I realized I only had to turn to you."

Will frowned. "Me?"

"You," his mother confirmed. "When your father went away, he left a very special gift behind." She laughed through her tears. "You were right here for me when I needed you most, and I promise that I will always do the same for you. I will be there whenever you need me, Will."

Will opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. So he squeezed his eyes shut and threw his arms around his mother instead, hoping that she could hear through his silence.

 _I love you, Mom._

"It's going to be all right, Will," his mother whispered. "It's going to be all right."

And in that fleeting moment, everything was.

.oOo.

Will woke the next morning with his cheeks sticky and stiff and dried salt on his lips. He stumbled into the bathroom and into the shower, turning the water on as hot as it could go, and scrubbed at his body until it was as pink as his scars. He felt like a new person - or at least a new version - when he finally stepped out of the tub and surveyed himself in the foggy mirror. His hair was wet and clumpy and slicked back with water so he could see his full face, bony and jagged, with shadows dancing across gaunt depressions. It still surprised him, even now. He didn't like to look at it, so he supposed he never got used to it. He had gotten soap in his eyes while washing his hair, and they stung as they bore into their reflections, redder than ever.

 _We all have weaknesses, Will._

He had to resist cringing away from the face of Icarus. It spoke the truth. "Nico di Angelo is my weakness," he wasn't sure if he was speaking to his reflection, or if it was his reflection murmuring to him. "Nico di Angelo gave me this face. This face is my weakness."

So he searched the drawers for a comb and scissors and cut away his scruffy, shaggy hair, letting it fall in soft swishes and patter into the sink. Then he picked up his electric shaver from where it lay fully charged on the counter - scarcely touched since Michael and Austin gave it to him for his seventeenth birthday - and ran it over the sides and back of his head, buzzing the hair short so that the scars behind his ears were visible.

"You must turn your weaknesses into your strengths," said the Will in the mirror, all red-eyed and wax-faced, and not an inch of it was hidden.

He smiled. It looked gruesome.

" _God_ ," said Johanna when she came downstairs and found him sitting in her kitchen with two cups of tea. "You look like the devil."

"Thank you," Will said absently, pushing one of the teas toward her.

She took a large gulp. "Why are you here so early?"

He'd decided before he came that beating around the bush would be pointless. "I want you to tell me about this rebellion against the Capitol."

Johanna smirked. "So, you've decided, have you?"

"Just tell me about it."

"I can't tell you about it if you're not sure. It's not a game, Solace. And we can't have you if we're not sure you're on our side."

Will sighed. "All right."

"All right, what?"

"All right, I'm on your side." Will breathed through his teeth.

Johanna took her time swallowing her next mouthful of tea. "Fine, then. Congratulations. You're in. You are now a real, certified rebel."

Will spread out his hands. "What, that's it?"

"Were you expecting anything else?"

"Maybe a few secrets. Possibly a meeting."

Johanna raised her eyebrows.

"Seriously?" Will deadpanned. "Who knew the Resistance was so boring?"

Johanna huffed, rolling her eyes. "Okay, Solace, listen up. The secret is District Thirteen was never really destroyed. They're alive and well, but underground, and they're the ones at the head this rebellion. Seven is where none of the action takes place. Yes, we have our own little band of rebels. And yes, we hold the occasional meeting when we feel up to it, but there's simply nothing to do. We're all so fucking useless here at Seven. You want the real deal, you go to the Capitol, Thirteen, Eight, or goddamn Three, even. But it'll be hard not attracting unwanted attention once you're there. You are a victor, after all.

"We're just always awaiting orders from Thirteen, but they never send any. Tell you what. I'll take you to the next meeting if you really have your mind set on this. If not, you can back out. There's no one here to hear you snitch anyway."

Will felt blood rush up to his face. He hadn't felt like this since… the Training Center. It was like something big was looming on the horizon. Something dark and stormy and oppressing. There was an urge in him to escape, but he felt an even stronger urge to rush into it, for the sake of struggling and battling, to see if there was sun on the other side. He had nothing to lose.

"I want to go," he told Johanna with all the conviction he had.


End file.
